He had a wide easy smile that dripped of confidence and a letterman’s jacket opened loosely over his broad chest. Calvin Demarcus? Why was the footb...all team’s star wide receiver hanging out in my living room?“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were here, Calvin right?”He looked at me sideways, “What? I’m Rob. Calvin? Please, you did not just tell me I look like that punk assed bitch.” She bit her lip. Honestly, she’d never really looked at them much without their helmets on. This was actually Robert. I was still under the impression that good girls didn't do that kind of thing. I did love the feeling of inserting a tampon, though. And even though I had almost done everything under the sun with the first guy I had ever fucked, I never got around to the masturbation process. But, on this particular morning, I felt like getting a little dirty. The urge to touch myself hit out of nowhere and I knew I had to get it out of my system once and for all. I was standing up against my bedroom wall. I. At that time, the softness of your voice, the lushness of your lips, the gracefulness of your movements were new to me, and to this day, remain unique to my experience. Your hair was a bit long, and the rich brown curls you sported made you appear boyish, younger than your twenty years. You were at ease in your own skin as a man, and that could only have come from your two extraordinary parents, and your upbringing in various places around the world. After dinner, we sat at the table and sipped. All I know is that she has red hair and is wearing a U Of M jacket. I walk in and scan the crowd. Nothing. I work my way to back. Scan the bar -- there she is!Red wig and the right jacket. Checking her out. Big bootie. Big breasts. Cute face. African American. Probably 15 years younger than me. Perfect! Showtime!I walk up, tap her on the shoulder and say "Hello"We get a table. And we talk. Actually I ask questions and let her talk. She's a dancer. She's been out buying outfits for work! Maybe.